iSometimes Believe NonTruths
by D R O W N-I N-S E Q U I N S
Summary: Carly Shay sometimes believes non-truths. Oneshot.


**This is for WolverineTaanger798 who enjoyed iAm Reckless (shameless pimping, I am aware :D) and asked me to write one about Carly so voila. I'm sorry to say I honestly don't think it's half as good as iAm Reckless, but hopefully you enjoy it anways. Hopefully you all enjoy it. And let me know if you do since I'm a little unsure. :)**

I.

Carly Shay sometimes believes non-truths.

II.

She's four when her mother dies.

She's four years old and all she wants to do is play Barbies. It's the middle of the day and the sun is bright and the birds are chirping merrily and she giggles and tries to whistle back. Her daddy is at work and her brother is at school and it's just her and her mommy but that's okay, she loves their special time. Sometimes they bake cookies or play dress up or her mommy will brush her hair and put on little dabs of makeup and she feels beautiful and glamorous. She decides when she grows up she wants to be a mommy, just like her own. She wants to wear pearls and heels and give people air kisses.

But she'll never be tired like her mommy is. Because sometimes her mommy will lock herself up in her room with the blinds drawn while she cries and cries and cries. And Carly will sit at the edge of her bed and just wait for mommy to feel better. But then Spencer will come home and drag her out of the room, telling her that mommy is just a little sick right now and he promises that she can see her when she feels better. And then he'll bring her wherever she wants to go until it's dark out and he puts her to bed.

She thinks it's going to be one of those days because her mommy didn't wake her up today. Whenever her mother wakes her up, she's bright eye and bouncy and Carly feels like her mother is a kindred spirit. She always wants to play games and giggle like a child. But she woke up on her own this morning and promptly decided she'd try to see if her mother would play Barbies with her.

She dressed herself and slipped out of her room and skipped down the hall. She peeked into her mommy and daddy's room but nobody was there. The bed was rumpled and unmade and even at four she knew that wasn't quite right. But she ignored it and followed the sound of flowing water. She stands in front of the bathroom door and water is seeping out of the tiny crack at the bottom and drenching her socks. She's confused because she knows that, that isn't supposed to happen. She opens the door and more water comes streaming out.

Only it's not just water. It's tinted red and at first she's just confused. Steam comes rushing out with the water and it's hot and burns her face. She can't see past the thick steam so she tiptoes in, "Mommy? Mommy, will you play Barbies with me? Please mommy? I'll be a good girl, I promise," she calls out as she takes steps farther and farther into the bathroom. The steam begins to clear and she draws nearer to the tub and what she sees will haunt her for the rest of her life.

Her mother is in the tub, in her favorite dress and best pearls and most expensive heels. The water is overflowing the tub and blood is spilling from her tiny wrists. Her skin is white and her big brown eyes, so much like Carly's own, are shut peacefully. She's hurtling herself towards her mother and sobbing and clinging onto her. "Mommy? Mommy wake up! You're not supposed to take naps in the tub mommy!" and she's sobbing and her mommy is cold but the water is burning her. She doesn't seem to feel it. She crawls into the tub, desperately clutching onto her mother.

That's where Spencer finds her four hours later. But by then the water had turned cold and she's shivering. It's the only time she's ever seen her big brother cry and she closes her eyes tightly because she knows somehow that this is all wrong. "Oh Carly, oh Carly," he keeps repeating as he picks her up and carries her away. He turns off the water and shuts the door tightly and she doesn't understand. "Why won't mommy wake up Spencer?" she keeps begging him for the answer but he simply kisses her forehead and tucks her into bed. But she's not tired and she's just confused. But he shuts her door loudly and she knows that she shouldn't ask anymore as she hears him sob outside her door.

A couple days later she's at her mother's funeral. She has no idea what that means but her daddy told her it was to say goodbye. She's wearing a pretty black dress and Spencer is wearing a pretty black suit and she's not quite sure why everybody looks so sad. She thinks it must be all the black that makes them all so sad because it certainly can't be the sunshine or pretty birds that sing for her. She watches as a big box is lowered into the ground and people cry and cry and she just doesn't get it.

And then they're back at her house and it's like a party with so much food and people only there isn't any presents and they all look so sad. She can hear them all whisper. They're whispering things like "sick" and "unstable" and then they're looking at her and muttering things like "poor girl" and "traumatized" and she hates the way they're looking at her. Hates the way they're whispering. She thinks that she must have done something very naughty to make them look at her like that and she promises herself she'll be a very good girl.

She can't bear to hear people whisper.

III.

Sometimes she hates her father.

She hates how he just left her without a backwards glance. Hates how he'll smile so tightly that it looks like he's about to split in two and whispers, "you look just like your mother" and then turns around as if that'd keep her from seeing the tears. Hates how he sometimes won't call. She hates how when she was little that whenever she had a scraped elbow or bruised knee, Spencer was the one to kiss it better. Hates how she runs to Spencer before him to show off her A's or talk about what a day she had. Hates how Spencer is the one that hugs her as she cries. She hates that she loves Spencer more than him.

She hates that he makes her lie to herself as she promises herself that she loves him.

IV.

Sometimes she thinks she really really really hates Sam.

She hates the way the blond sets fire to everything she touches and never seems to get burned. Hates the way that nothing fazes her or discourages her or seems to get to her. Hates how she takes what she wants when she wants it and how she never seems to deal with the consequences. She hates that she's reckless and wild and dangerous and most of all she hates the way she destroys herself.

Because Carly isn't stupid. And she knows the blond girl then either of them will ever admit. And a part of Carly needs Sam. Needs to take care of her and watch out for her if only to distract herself. She needs Sam to push her and break her to make sure that she's still alive. Still capable of error. Without Sam she'd just be a walking zombie. Another ordinarily pretty face is a sea of the perfectly crafted tangles of lies and delusions. And she hates that she needs her, even when she's breaking her. But that's okay.

Because there's much more love then hate.

V.

She knows a lot more then she lets on.

She hates it whenever Sam starts binge eating because she knows what happens after. In fact she thinks she's known longer then she'd ever care to admit. Because it's not natural for a girl to eat that much and stay so skinny and isn't it strange how she always seems to need to go to the bathroom or shower right after a binge fest? But she doesn't like to think about it so she simply pretends it isn't happening.

She knows she should confront her, tell her that she knows and beg her to stop. But she's Sam and she won't stop because that's just the kind of girl she is. And she's Carly so she won't make waves because that's just the kind of girl she is. So when one day after school she comes home to Freddie and Sam holed up in the bathroom, she's honestly not surprised.

She presses her ear against the door and she can hear Sam whimpering and Freddie is 'sh'ing. Eventually she raises up enough courage to bang on the door and demand to know what's going on. Not that she isn't already too well aware. But Freddie insists that she's sick and he doesn't want her to catch it. She thinks she'd laugh if it didn't hurt so damn bad because really, how fucking stupid do they think she is? But she instead just walks to her room and curls up into a little ball.

She'd rather not know anyways.

VI.

She knows good girls don't drink.

And maybe that's why it takes her so long to start. But once she does, she's not sure if she'll ever stop. Because the alcohol blurs the edges and the lines and she feels free. She loves how when she's drunk, it's okay to say stupid things and do stupid things and she feels so happy. As if she's floating on air and she's indestructible and untouchable and everything is okay. And it's okay that she likes the pretty boys who will only use her.

It's okay that she's only with them because they make her feel prettier and desirable. It's okay that she's shallow and needy and dependent. It's all okay when the edges are bended and the rules are twisted and all that matters is a good time. She doesn't have to remember the really bad parts the next morning and it's the only time she's ever out of control.

She likes to drink because it's the only time she's free of herself.

VII.

Sometimes she thinks she should love Freddie.

It'd be easier and it'd make him so happy. After all, he's one of her best friends and by making him happy, she'd be making herself happier. And besides, they get along so well. They'd be a perfectly happy couple. They'd be calm and collected and so very safe.

She thinks they'd be all kinds of perfect together. And every time, every time, she's about to give in she's sees Sam out of the corner of her eye. Sam. Her best friend. Sam. The girl who just so happens to be in love with Freddie even if she's in denial about it. Sam. The girl who makes Freddie alive, passionate. So every time, every single damn time, she's about to give in, she stops.

Because yeah, it'd make her life easier to go out with Freddie. And yeah, she'd be happy with him. And yeah, they could have a perfectly calm, peaceful existence with each other but she doesn't think it'd be fair. He deserves somebody who makes him passionate and alive. Sam deserves to be happy and in love and to finally get something she really truly wants. And she deserves more too. She deserves a relationship with butterflies and passion and true honest to goodness love that makes your toes curl.

She'll settle for breaking his heart now for a happier future.

VIII.

She's diagnosed with anxiety.

She thinks she's always had it but it increases during high school. The pressure increases and her need for perfection increases and it kind of just blows up in her face. At first it's just her need for grades. She needs good grades because they're a measurement of what she's worth. She knows it's stupid and not necessarily true but when she gets an A she feels like she's worth something, that she just may have a future. But pretty soon that's not enough, after all colleges don't just look at grades. And she feels the overwhelming need to be the best. To win. And on her way to the top, she beats other people.

And she swears she can hear them whispering, and it's like mommy's funeral all over again, and she can barely breathe anytime anybody looks her way. Soon enough she can't leave her room without crying or begging Spencer to let her stay. And Sam and Freddie are both so confused, they don't get it. And soon enough the smallest things send her into a downwards spiral. She can't breathe and the world spins as her heart beat quickens and she's sinking into the ground and everything is so loud but she can't understand anything and she knows, just knows, that she's about to die.

When Spencer witnesses this he immediately brings her to the Dr., whom tells her it's called a panic attack and they write a pretty little prescription to make everything go away and send her on her way. She tells Spencer she'll take them. But she can't. She won't.

Because if the little voice that tells her what people are saying and thinking and what she's doing wrong isn't there, then how will she ever know if she's perfect?

IX.

She didn't mean to break.

It was a regular day. A regular day with regular day things. She woke up, dragged herself out of bed and went to school. The sky was a pretty shade of gray and it drizzled just lightly enough to make use extra hair product but not enough to make her take an umbrella. She took notes in class. She smiled and made small talk with people she honestly didn't like. She scolded and lectured and Sam, who rolled her eyes and danced around the issues.

And it wasn't supposed to end the way it did. Sam had to go home to meet one of her mother's numerous boyfriends and Freddie was taking some Mommy and Me Pottery class. And she went home just like she was supposed to. Spencer was off with Socko at some art related thing and the house was empty and quiet. But she couldn't get the sound of running water out of her head. And she swore she could still hear people whispering about her and why wouldn't they ever just shut up?

And that stupid little voice in the back of her brain kept reminding her of all the things she wanted to forget. Sam and Freddie were in love and as soon as they realized it they wouldn't need her anymore, they'd be off and she'd be left all alone. And nobody really liked her because she was too fake and boring and her laugh was obnoxious. And all the teachers thought she was a brownnoser and they gave her good grades but it was nothing like how it would be in college. And even if she did get into a decent one, it'd never last because she was too stupid and she'd somehow end up living off of Spencer forever because she just wasn't good enough to make it.

All she wanted was for it to stop. She wanted the voice to just _shut up please oh please just shut up_ and it wouldn't and it couldn't and she just wanted to make it all go away. The blade is cool against her skin and she briefly wonders if this is how her mother felt. If her mommy just couldn't handle the whispers and the pressure anymore and she just needed to let it out. Let it flow out and drown her because it felt like she was bursting from her own skin. And it hurts so bad, so fucking bad, but she likes it because it's the first time she's ever been able to look the way she feels. And she watches the blood run down her arms and onto the pretty white floor and it taints it and stains it just like her sins taint and stain her. Then there's little white stars and her vision begins to blur and blur and blur until there's nothing more than black.

"Carly?" the sound echoes in her ear drums and she can faintly recognize the voice. "Carly?!" and she knows that the voice never sounds like this. A little hysterical, a little out of control. She wants to shout back, to let them know she's fine. But she's so heavy and her eyelids won't open and she's so damn tired that she just don't think she can "Carly," the voice whispers and lightly taps the door open and then there's the sound of somebody throwing up. She wants to cringe but she can't because she's too busy floating in the black where she's not quite so tired.

She whimpers to let the voice know that she's fine, just fine. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," the voice whimpers over and over and she doesn't know what the voice is sorry for, she's just so damn tired. She lets herself float back into the suffocating black where things aren't quite so confusing.

When her eyelids can finally open she's in a white, white, white room. A lady with concerned eyes is asking her all these questions and she keeps answering them until one throws her off guard, "Were you trying to commit suicide?" and she's suddenly so angry. Angry at this lady for making false presumptions and angry at her mother for fucking her up and her father for never being there and at herself for putting herself in this situation.

Finally the questions are done and the nurses have stopped poking and sticking her with needles and Sam comes in. She looks so broken and Carly hates herself. "I'm so sorry Carls… I should've known. I'm so sorry," Sam finally blurts out and Carly promptly bursts into tears. She hates herself for making her strong best friend so weak and for hurting her when she was supposed to be the only one who didn't. Her choking sounds echo in the empty white room and Carly feels Sam fling herself onto her, "I'm so sorry. So sorry Carls." They hold each other until she is only hiccupping.

"Silly Sam. This is me. Not you Sam. Never you," she smiles tightly and she wants Sam to understand. Needs her to understand that this isn't about her. She needs her to be okay if she's ever supposed to survive.

They stay in the same position on the bed. In some odd fashioned hug and it stays silent until Sam can't take it anymore, "How can I make you better?" Carly hates the childlike horror in her voice and she wants to fix Sam into the strong girl that she knows.

"I have anxiety. Have for a while now. And well, they had me on pills. So this wouldn't happen. But I don't like them Sam. They make me so tired. And I feel so different. It's just… I know I'm better when I'm on them. I know that they're helping me. But the feelings. Those bad feelings. They're part of who I am. And I'm so scared Sam. I don't want to change. I don't want to turn into somebody I don't recognize anymore," Carly begins to cry again. Not loudly, but the silent, one tear sort of thing that Hollywood eats up.

"Want to make a deal Carls?" Sam asks.

"Is this going to be one of the kinds of deals that you make with Freddie? Because I don't think I can handle that. I don't know how he handles it. You two are so funny. Always trying to prove something to the other," Carly smiles and it's genuine.

"No. I don't think you could handle those either," she nudges Carly teasingly and Carly giggles in response, "No, my deal is just for you and me. A once in a lifetime kind of thing. How about you let go of your fear and I'll let go of my anger? I know it won't be easy. But we're Carly and Sam. We're like Superheros, we can do anything."

"I think I'd like that," Carly beams at her and she feels better as Sam smiles back. Sam doesn't leave the hospital bed the whole week that Carly is there recuperating. They make fun of Spanish soap stars, Sam eats all the hospital food, and Carly giggles when Sam pulls prank on the hospital staff. Freddie visits and it feels almost like home to Carly when Sam and him start to argue.

Spencer flutters around nervously. The sterile, pristine environment is the exact opposite to everything he holds dear to his heart and Carly finds herself excited to go home back to everything she knows. She keeps taking small steps to rid herself of the anxiety and helps Sam with her anger issues.

She's starting to think it's okay if she isn't perfect.

X.

Carly Shay sometimes believes non-truths.

Sometimes she believes things because they're easier and simpler. Sometimes she believes her pretty delusions over reality because it's the only way she can feel like she can breathe. Sometimes she takes the lies over the truth because it's the only way she knows how to survive. But most of the time, most of the time she believes the truth.

Because the truth is looking prettier and prettier every single day.


End file.
